


A Mortal Life

by ShadowEtienne



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowEtienne/pseuds/ShadowEtienne
Summary: Arwen is a bit at a loss in Minas Tirith.  Maybe she just needs a semi-local guide.





	A Mortal Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chestnut_filly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chestnut_filly/gifts).



Arwen’s arrival in Minas Tirith had been marked with such a celebratory air that she had not truly looked at her new home.  She had heard of it of course, from her Estel, and from other travelers she had had the chance to ask, but all of those were stories of the great white city, and stories carried a grain of the truth but they were not all of it.

 

Arwen had not thought of what a Minas Tirith ravaged by war might be like, how it might differ from the depictions that she was familiar with.  Soot stained white stone walls, and the Houses of Healing were filled to overflowing.  She helped as she could, for even having chosen the mortal path, she had more power for healing in her hands than most of the Men of Gondor could have dreamt of.

 

As Elessar searched for his white tree, and the hope that it would bear, Arwen was at first quite lonely.  There were members of the guard, and there were Dunedain who had come south with their King who she had met before, but there was no one who really could explain the state of her new home to her it seemed.  The Steward tried, but he was busy, and he was weary with many tasks.  She saw it too that he was having to show Elessar the ways of Minas Tirith, even though it was not Elessar’s first time residing within the walls.  Before, he’d been a stranger from a distant place.

 

She was startled when a young woman, nearly of height with her, and close enough in visage and manner to Faramir or Elessar to have been their sister, fell into step beside her as she left the Houses of Healing one evening and said, without preamble, “My cousin says that he thinks that you are perhaps in need of a Steward nearly as much as your husband, your Majesty.”

 

 

Arwen waited, wondering who this stranger was, though she wondered if this was someone whose acquaintance she had maid in fine gowns and regal array instead of in the garb of a laborer.  There had been many new faces in the past months, and she was uncertain where all of them fit in.  She did not have to wait long for the young woman to continue, “We have not met properly, though you know of me and I of you, I am Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, and Faramir is my cousin.  I have come lately to aid in the Houses of Healing, but also at my cousin’s request, for I know of the ways of the running of the cities of Gondor, and might be of help to you and to his fair lady of Rohan if you would wish.”

 

Arwen thought over this information bit by bit. She did know of Lothiriel, daughter of Imrahil and cousin of Faramir.  Faramir had mentioned her often and fondly, and had hoped that they might meet in time.  The young woman who strode beside her was not quite as she had expected.  Arwen decided that she should perhaps reply, and she said, “I would be most grateful for some guidance in the matters of Gondor’s politics and people.  I find myself at turns bewildered and five steps behind, and there is much to be done.”

 

Lothiriel smiled widely at her, and Arwen again noted the similarity of her features to her cousin’s.  She told Arwen, “There are many strange and petty matters among the Lords of Gondor, for the line of Stewards could not push them to reconcile the way the King might have.  Even so, they are now well rooted and will be hard to undo in a season, or perhaps even a lifetime.  Dol Amroth has sat apart a bit, but even we have been left with frustrations that the Stewards could not contain.  All of this is now falling on the King, and by extension you.  If you’ll have my help, I can navigate a way through that for you.”

 

Their walk had taken them to the great halls in the inner circle of the city, and Arwen was almost startled to see the guards allow Lothiriel through without the slightest question.  Her face and manner were clearly known here.  Elessar was up in the mountains, and Faramir had been holding the petitioners court on his own, but he had come to meet them at the gates.  He said, “Your Majesty, I see that my cousin has found you even before she fully arrived.  Has she told you of my proposal to help you here?”

 

Arwen nodded and looked between the cousins.  Faramir had been a great and loyal help to Elessar, and side by side, their manner and nature showed that they were cut of the same cloth.  Her first impression that they could have been siblings seemed to hold true.  At last, she nodded and reached out to clasp Lothiriel’s hand in friendship, saying, “I would be happy to take you as my aide for now, and hopefully a long time friend.”

 

Lothiriel grinned widely at her and replied, “That would be my hope as well, my queen.”

 

In the following months, Arwen found herself glad that she had chosen the mortal path, not only for Elessar, though she loved him more dearly than ever, but also for her friend.  Among her kind, children were few enough and far enough between that she had never had a friend of her own age, but instead had followed her brothers about, mostly feeling left behind.  Lothiriel, with three elder brothers of her own, had seemed, once they had settled, a kindred spirit of sorts.  She trusted her companion for her knowledge, but also for her sense of camaraderie and fun.  Arwen had expected the realms of Men to be sadder somehow, when everyone seemed to die so soon, but she had instead found laughter and friendship that she had never even known to look for.


End file.
